So Let Go . . .

That's a line from one of my favorite songs, from one of my favorite artists: Imogen Heap. In case you were wondering.

If you're new to this blog and don't read on a daily basis, or if you tend to skip over stuff that isn't crafty, then you've probably missed that the move out here was ridiculously hard. From planning to execution to the now day-to-day living in a strange place and doing things I've never had to do before, this has been a pretty big trial. Some days feel easier than others; the sun shines, things go right, and I sail through the day unscathed. Other days . . .

It's sort of like my car. I start her up and she fights each acceleration, each gear shift. She shakes and trembles and kinda hates it here. Some days just feel like a fight from the moment I get out of bed, pushing through each hour, counting them and hoping the day will soon be over, but feeling a bit like I've cheated myself to spend a day like this. I know I've only been here a few months, but there's a part of me that feels like I'm wasting time because I'm not doing what I came out here to do. Like I'm letting myself down.

This is one of those days when I want a fairy godmother. She would pop into existence, wave her wand, and magically I would find myself in the perfect place in my life, safe, loved, and secure. It's silly and not very enlightened, especially for someone who's fought so hard to be independent and prove she can make it on her own. But, on days like today, I just want to be pampered and cared for and not have to keep forcing my life to shift into the next gear.

I think I need some more Imogen Heap and a little iced chai.